


That Weekend in Vail

by halfhardtorock



Category: White Collar
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Pregnancy Kink, Threesome - F/M/M, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfhardtorock/pseuds/halfhardtorock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time Neal gave Peter and El a pretty baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Weekend in Vail

Tonight was the night. She would tell them. She waited with a bottle of champagne by the door, zipping and unzipping her sweatshirt. Puffing her cheeks out in annoyance. But they never showed, were stuck on the job and when she got the call at 11:00, it was Neal and he was yelling excitedly over traffic sounds "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. Sorry! We should have called earlier. We've got a lead--Oh! Peter, the statue! Look at the statue! El, I can't talk. We'll call you when we get a chance." 

And she went to bed by herself after cooing at Satchmo and putting the champagne away in the fridge.

 

And then it was lunch and she made them sandwiches for the bench in the park. It was still warm enough for it, though it wouldn't be for much longer. 

Mozzie showed up with them, smiling shyly at her while they walked over, giving an awkward wave. She considered it briefly, telling them in front of Mozzie. Mozzie who'd never mentioned it but certainly knew. Who'd once put his arm around her when Neal was missing for those 24 hours in Brooklyn and said "if anyone can outwit the Armenian mob, it's Neal." Like he knew. Like he knew she was dying a little inside with worry.

She decided...not in front of Mozzie. Because it would be cruel to Peter. Or Neal. Or anyone at the park who would end up bearing witness to the meltdown.

She split their sandwiches up four ways and they ate together, soaking up the late fall sunlight.

 

She could hear them laughing while they came in the door. Already a little tipsy off the beers they'd had at dinner. Friday night was what Neal called kickin' back time. _Kickin' back with Peter Burke_ , like it was some public access cable show. And sometimes it _was_ , when he got Peter tipsy enough to tell old stories about the chase. Neal was insatiably fascinated about hearing Peter's old _Neal Caffrey_ stories. Like his life had always been a bare bones sketch, just waiting for the details, the emotional pathos to be filled in boldly.

She thought she should brace herself. She'd waited too long to tell them. It was time and it wasn't going to be pretty. But then Neal let out a peal of drunken giggles and _snorted_ and she couldn't help but crack up.

"I heard that, _Elizabeth_ ," Neal called. She took in a bottle of wine and two glasses as her husband loomed over Neal and asked him, with a soft smile curling his lip "you staying over?"

Neal still had his place. Went there often, when a case was hot and they couldn't be sure if Diana or Jones might show up unannounced in the morning while they were all standing in the kitchen with bed heads, in their underwear.

Neal's eyes were bright. He didn't need the invite, but he _liked_ it. Liked that Peter would ask him for this. That Peter always wanted him to be there. He bit his lip coyly, said "Well, I got a thing with Mozzie in the morning but mmmmmm, yeah? I guess so." All seductively indolent. Like he could go both ways, any which way they wanted him, really.

For a second, Peter looked like he was going to mount him right there in the entryway. Which made Elizabeth sigh dreamily at the testosterone building up to a head, ready to froth over.

They both turned to her. Neal tapped out the leftover slush on his shoes and then with a raised eyebrow at her, sat down on the couch to slowly slip off the vintage wingtips like he was doing a striptease.

"What are you and Mozzie up to tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked, curious, pouring Neal a glass of wine.

"Nothing _good_ ," Peter snorted and shouldered past to hang up his coat. 

"Nothing good," Neal agreed magnanimously and took his wine.

"And you, what are _you_ doing tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked her husband, passing him his own glass. He sighed good-naturedly and drank. "I'm planning on doing helpful, manly things around the house for my gorgeous wife."

"Good answer," Neal marveled. And then his brows came together, frowning. "Should I be doing husbandly things around the house for you too, Mrs. Burke?"

Elizabeth bit back her smile, but Peter couldn't hold in his barking laugh. "Not you. You just sit back and look pretty."

Neal took the request seriously, sprawled into the couch with his wine glass lazy in his fingers, smoldering up at them like a libertine. 

Peter chewed at the inside of his cheek, looking down at him relish.

"Where's your glass?" Neal asked, noticing that she was just standing there, holding the bottle in her two hands, watching them anxiously.

"You're not drinking out of that, are you honey?" Peter teased.

And she was terrible at secrets, and worse at tactfully revealing secrets. They had a long history with this. Peter knew. So she just took a deep breath and said "Nope! No wine for the pregnant lady."

It would be hilarious, she decided, on a much later date. Much later. Years from now. Decades. When the grandkids were older.

No one moved except Satchmo, who turned to rest his head on Peter's socked foot with a sigh. 

And then Neal clapped his hand over his mouth and made a throaty, wounded sound.

 

"Head between the knees, kid. It's ok," Peter prompted in a low voice, sitting down and rubbing Neal's back as he gasped for breath.

"Sorry!" Elizabeth said, rushing back in with a paper bag. "Oh, Neal."

It took him a while to come out of it. And when he did he kept his head down, eyes hidden behind his mussed hair. His breathing evened out as his fingers fiddled at the paper bag, tearing it into little pieces.

"When did you find out?" Peter asked her slowly like he was talking to a shaken witness, holding her hands in his. 

"A while. A few weeks ago." She let Peter guide her closer. "Neal, I'm so sorry. I meant to tell you over dinner when I found out, but then you guys were talking about that Medicaid fraud case. And then we had lunch and Mozzie was there. And then it just kept building up and tonight you _both_ took Satch out for a walk so I couldn't break it to Peter first. I...I couldn't figure out how to say it--"

"--shhhhh, it's ok," Peter soothed her. And then sighed "Jesus, El."

Neal put both of his hands through his hair and looked at them, face all pale and broken open and beautiful. 

They stared at him, breathless. 

" _Guys_ \--" he started. "Elizabeth--"

"--it was probably when we were in Vail," Elizabeth blurted and began fiddling with her hair.

Peter cleared his throat and a blush stained his cheek, the nape of his neck. Neal looked at her, still stunned. But then a smile cracked on his face at the memory and he said " _D-damn_. Damnit. One weekend of debauchery with you two and someone has to go and get pregnant."

Peter let out a hard breath, relieved. And then he reached over and wrung at the scruff of Neal's neck. "Well done, maverick. Next time, wear a condom, Jesus."

"What? Why is this my fault?" Neal argued.

"Because I'm sterile, you dum-dum," Peter shot back.

And then Neal's eyes went wide with horror and he spooked Satchmo when he started hyperventilating again.

 

"You, shut it," Elizabeth told her husband, catching him by the chin. Peter's face went earnest and he nodded, quiet. 

She ran her hand through Neal's hair, tweaked his soft earlobe. "Are you ok, hon? Do you need some time?"

_Need some time_ was code for, do you need to go back to June's for the night and reclaim your lost pride? It had only happened once, when Peter had overreacted after a classic Mozzie and Neal stunt and in the ensuing argument, had questioned Neal's integrity. His loyalty to this, to them. Neal had actually gotten out of bed and left, all three of them miserable when he said quietly that he needed some time. Peter had found him at June's the next morning and carted him back. She always wondered what he'd said to bring him back, but from the warm way Neal handled him for days after that, eyes all soft, she could guess that he had probably just teared up, tried to stern his chin and apologized with a quivering lip. Which is how he had won her back years ago, after they argued about her parents right before the honeymoon.

Neal looked at her now, face all guileless. And then he put his shaky palm to her stomach. 

She froze at Neal's touch. " _I_ got you pregnant. I...I got you pregnant. In Vail?"

"Yeah," she agreed, and then blushed in spite of herself. Because there was something so honest in his eyes, she couldn't look away or tease him like she usually did to smooth things over.

"When Peter was in the shower after skiing, I put you on your hands and knees and...and--" Neal stuttered.

"Oh God," Peter said, strained. 

"Yeah," she said, voice barely there.

Neal stared off into space for a long time, long enough that Peter shot her a look that would have probably meant _should I call for backup?_ in the field. But then Neal shivered once and said "You want this? Elizabeth?"

She nodded, smiled a little weakly. "I've had a lot more time to get used to the idea. And let me just say, I don't hate it."

Neal chuckled, hand in his hair again. He swallowed, and the smile slowly fell off his face. He swallowed again and looked like he was barely holding it together. 

And then his eyes screwed up like he was about to cry and they both stepped towards him with worried sounds, wrapped him up inside a hug.

 

It became pretty clear later that evening, how Neal Caffrey, international conman extraordinaire, _really_ felt about sowing his wild oats. 

Peter tried to catch him by the hips once, quiet him, but Neal just made this needy, throaty sound, turned to her and _lifted_ her up against the wall in the hallway, his braced legs shaking under her as he ate out her mouth.

She caught his hair in her hands to try to still him and his teeth clacked her's in his earnestness. 

It was when he started twisting up his ass--moving without that smooth, well-oiled machinery that usually powered his hips--that Peter intervened. Neal left her slumped against the wall and turned to Peter, hair a mess, and began tearing Peter's belt open, hands flying as his mouth tagged Peter's flushed throat, began sucking hungrily.

"Jesus, Neal," Peter groaned, stumbling down the hall.

They ended up hitting the bed in an awkward pile because Neal had caught her by the wrist with one hand and Peter's loosened belt with the other and wasn't leaving anyone behind. He didn't let her wrist go even as he freed Peter from his boxer briefs and surged down to take him in his mouth. 

Peter clawed at the bed, gasping " _Neal_."

Neal prided himself on his neatness, the fine, lean, perfect line he made in a well-tailored suit. But now he was all sharp elbows and upset curls in his eyes and slim fitting trousers riding high, showing his bare ankles. She could see that Peter was trying to hang on, but the pleasure was staggering him, making his eyes go all glassy and lined with urgency.

"Oh honey," El said, using her free hand to pet her husband's hair. Neal's hand on her caught wrist tightened. "Let him have it."

Peter's head dropped back then and his face went lax as he surrendered. A few sloppy, audible sucks later and Neal moaned around the flood in his mouth.

Neal barely wiped off his wet lips before he turned his gasping attention on El and pounced.

"Ohhhh, ok, ok. Ok, baby," she said, trying to gentle him. He usually was all sleek-stamina when he fucked her. He'd start with his face between her legs, letting her play with his hair while Peter moaned, watching. But now he was jerking open his fly and nailing into her without warning, without a breath, without any finesse. 

She was touching his flushed cheek in comfort and then suddenly, Neal Caffrey's beautiful cock was deep in her cunt like he'd stolen in. She groaned, arching.

He fell apart over her, hair in his eyes, mouth open and out of breath as he made love to her, trembling all over.

It didn't take long for Peter to take pity on him. El felt the change as soon as it happened, the way Neal tensed up all tight and still. And then he let out a small whining sound, eyes dropping closed as Peter settled behind him, hands on Neal's hips.

"Slow down, kid. Take it slow," Peter said, voice deep and gravelly. "Like this."

And he guided Neal by his hips, pushed and pulled him while Neal just breathed through it, a hot mess. 

It didn't take long. She wasn't even close when Neal arched his body like a well-loved cat and came with a high moan.

 

"Come here. Right here," Peter ordered her and she could blush at the way he wanted her legs spread, her cunt shown off all open and creamy, but he just groaned in relish and went down on her, ate her out like he was starving for it, until she was hot all over and her cunt was shiny and licked clean.

And he put two thick, firm fingers into her and she came with her eyes wide on Neal, who was hovering near to watch, his eyes wild and impatient.

When she had finished spasming, Peter put his cock to her, all raw and just barely hard enough. He fucked himself to stiffness and then came in her slowly, muscles all bunched up from the stress.

And when he fell aside, Neal climbed stealthily over her again, his mouth pink with a shaky smile. They made love again, but slow and careful, his body all slippery with sweat between her locked knees. When she came on his cock, he buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed to a finish too.

 

 

Neal spooned against her that night while Peter watched, eyebrow raised, settled in so close to her back, she could feel his breath on her spine. And then his hand sneaked around her and cupped her belly low. 

She caught Peter's eye and smiled, shrugged helplessly.

"You ok, kiddo?" Peter asked, reaching around to grab a book off the bedside table, pausing to squeeze Neal's bare shoulder first.

"Uh-huh," Neal said, muffled against her skin. He was peppering little kisses on her.

Peter snorted and sat back in the bed, started reading.

El drifted asleep in the companionable silence and snapped awake later when the moon was up and the light was off and Peter was snoring beside them. 

Neal was lifting her leg, whispering "El, it's me," and his cock nudged at where she was swollen from their use. 

She bit her lip, reached back to hold his lean thigh as he moved into her with a sigh.

He held there. Gosh, for a long time. Enough that she ended up almost falling asleep again, even with the feeling of his cock all hard in her softness.

And then he held her belly and gently, slowly made love to her.

It took a while. She was dazed from being awoken in the middle of the night, but it felt like he fucked her like that for hours, just barely pressing in and pulling out. Getting her so hot it was devastating when he finally smoothed his hand down and rubbed his thumb in a sweet, wet circle over her clit.

She came on him in strong, angry pulses. Like her cunt had been impatient for it. It made him bite her shoulder, hug her back to him tightly as her orgasm choked the pleasure out of him.

"Elizabeth," he gasped wetly.

 

When she woke again, she realized that Neal was making his rounds that night, because she was chilled at the back where he'd left her and she found him smothered under her husband, clawing into the pillow as Peter grit his teeth and slammed into him. 

"Do you know how beautiful... _God_. How beautiful this kid is going to be?" Peter said with all this feeling and Neal cried out and started jerking like he was...like he--

"--Neal, god. Did you just--?" Peter wondered.

 

They were all weak as kittens at breakfast the next morning. Especially Neal, who sat and rested his head on the counter close enough for El to rub at his hair.

"People are gonna ask. They'll wonder why now. _How_ it could happen now," Neal murmured.

"S'easy," Peter told him, stirring the eggs. "We're getting fertility help. We didn't mention it because you never know when it'll take."

"'kay," Neal agreed. And his hand found El's knee under the table and squeezed.

After they'd all eaten, had coffee and big glasses of orange juice, Neal seemed to wake up a little and he asked "you guys never tried before? With a fertility specialist?"

"Nope," Peter said. "Never really had time. See, I was busy chasing a certain convicted felon all around the world--"

"Oh," Neal sighed, regretful. "My fault."

"Woah, woah woah," Peter said.

"--Neal," El said, facepalming as Neal pressed his face into the counter. 

"I got you pregnant," he murmured into the counter top. "And you didn't even get a chance to try together first."

Peter sighed and hugged him from behind, laying over his so his cheek was pressed to Neal's nape. They looked so silly, she put her head in her hand and bit back her smile.

"Our baby is going to be perfect. With you and El's smarts and looks. Jeez. What man could ask for more?"

And Neal sighed and nodded in agreement, and they just stayed like that for a while, heads pressed together, soaking it in.


End file.
